My Demons-The Fourth Quarter Quell
by Annabeth Pie
Summary: Teens are getting rowdy. The Justice Buildings are filling up pretty fast, and Panem needs a way to deal with this. After President Rocc was assasinated, Grayson Dommer rises up to take his place. The 100th Hunger Games-the tributes are all criminals. SYOT open!
1. Prologue One-A New Power

* * *

**My Demons-the Fourth Quarter Quell**

* * *

**Summary: Teens are getting rowdy. The Justice Buildings are filling up pretty fast, and Panem needs a way to deal with this. After President Rocc was assasinated, Grayson Dommer rises up to take his place. The 100th Hunger Games-the tributes are all criminals.**

* * *

**President Dommer, 19, Panem President**

I am the youngest president ever elected.

Nineteen seems young, but my ideas are wild. I promise you that.

It was only three months after my Victory, and three months before the Quarter Quell Reading, that I recieved the news.

There was a light drumming on the office door.

"Come in," I called out, half awake. It was a slow week.

"Sir," The voice came from the District 2 Representitive, Giles Schmit. In Rocc's reign he decided that each district should have a representitive to inform the President of any funny business going on.

Seeing Giles surprised me. I could easily tell it was him-he's a unique young man. Twenty two years of age with unkept red hair and bright, mismatched eyes. Without his unique features, I wouldn't be able to tell it was him. I haven't seen him since my first day in office-District 2 was the most loyal to the Capitol, after all.

Giles walked up to my desk, and I tried to appear I was busy the whole time.

"The Justice Building is becoming too small," Giles scratched his head. "Smugglers are becoming more abundant since you raised transportation prices."

I closed my eyes for a second. I didn't expect this to happen. Twelve and eleven had tried to boycott transportation, but that meant human transport, which reduced daily quotas.

"Grab the camera," I told Giles, eyes still closed. "I have to lower the cost again. This isn't working."

* * *

It's only a few days before the Quarter Quell announcement. What Giles said is still giving me concern. Are the Justice Buildings really becoming too small?

I flipped through the piles of paperwork that fill up my desk. The usual-District One wanting more screentime in the games, Peacekeepers sending in the weekly reports, a few personally written letters asking for change. Those always go right into the bin.

It's a letter printed on black with white lettering that grabs my attention. One look at the signature tells me it's from the Head Gamemaker, Liza Ellison. I quickly scan through it. The arena for this year is explained thouroghly, including an indepth definition of every trap. I smile to myself. From her records, Ellison always earned As when it came to creativity and explanation.

The arena looked _grea__t_ to me. I folded up the letter and gave it my stamp of approval. I slipped off my jacket and ran a hand through my sweaty dark hair. Who knew May would be so hot?

"President Dommer," The door opens to a beautiful young lady, only about twenty-two years of age. Her badge identifies her as the Secretary, Winter Mayfield. She looks the part, with curly white hair and icy cold eyes. Her pale skin is clear, and she wears a navy blue dress. Not as glamourous as the common folk in the Capitol.

"President Dommer," she repeats. She holds out a box made with deep violet wood with golden flecks. "The Quarter Quell card has arrived."

I stand up slowly, and walk over to Winter. My heart pounds as I reach out to the box. Half because I'm excited, and the other half representing my huge crush on the secretary. My hands close around the box, which is cold to the touch. I carefully cradle it in my arms, then motion for Ms Mayfield to leave.

As I sit down, I open the case. I peel open the envelope, slowly. The yellowed piece of parchment inside is barely legible, but I grew up with messy handwriting.

_For the 100th Hunger Games, to represent the 100 years of Peace the games brought, the tributes will be desendants from previos victors._No. That won't do. Without thinking, I cast the yellowed parchment aside. I took out a notecard, and began writing my own twist.

_For the 100th Hunger Games, as a reminder that actions have consequences, all the tributes will have a stain on their record._Yes.This would do.

* * *

**In case you don't understand the twist, every tribite will have a crime filed against them. Whether it be as small as one public whipping or a life sentence, all the names in the reaping pool will have something.held againt them. A stain on their record.****RULES**

**1\. This** **is first come first serve, unless I dont see a character fit**

**3\. No M characters**

**4\. No cursing**

**5\. No reserves**

**6\. Only guests are permitted to submit via review. If you can PM, do it****The Form is on my profile under My Demons**


	2. Prologue 2-Broken Shackles

**My Demons-The Fourth Quarter Quell**

**Prologue 2-Broken Shackles**

* * *

**Kris Petune, 32, District 2 Prison Guard**

The Quarter Quell Announcment changed the atmosphere.

The adults shrugged it off and left. The kids, however, were frozen. None of them knew what to do.

I understand their pain. I remember 25 years ago. I was seven. My mother, Rayya, was a Victor. The 64th Games to be exact. The Quell Announcment came on, and my mother burst into tears. I hadn't understood it at the time.

My Mother died in those games.

I forced myself to push those thoughts aside. I whipped my auburn bangs out of my face and began shouting orders.

"C'mon, don't stand there all day! To your stations!" I demanded.

Everyone ran in various directions, moving to where they were supposed to go. I turned towards the frozen screen.

Dommer looked too happy. A sneer was etched onto that perfectly tanned skin, blood red eyes beaming with pride. I felt there was something off about him...something sinister. A secret he's hiding.

"Hey," A voice said from behind me.

I turned around. Macy Hall smiled at me, and I smile back.

"What's gotcha all worked up?" Macy asked, walking up to me. "I thought you were tough."

Macy grabbed my hand, and I gazed into his emerald eyes. I've known Macy since I was 22, and he was 24. We were both training to become Peacekeepers, but got assigned Prision Guard instead.

"You idiot," I laughed. "It's noth-"

_CRASH_

I literally jumped in surprise.

"It came from the Steel Cells," Macy yelled, letting go. "C'mon Kris, let's go!"

The Steel Cells. Life sentences. I wondered which criminal was causing a rukus.

Macy was trying desperately to find the right key. He finally shoved one into the lock of the heavy iron door, and grunted as he pushed it open.

My eyes widened.

Marine Wilds was a sixteen year old serial killer, who had taken the lives of two peacekeepers. Somehow, her weak body was able to break through the steel shackles.

The pshycopath clawed at her blond pixie cut, her fingers cut and bleeding. She had a wicked smile on her face, and she held a knife. A _knife_.

How she found it, I never discovered.

Marine ran towards Macy and I, hissing. "Stabby stabby!"

Macy jumped out of the way, but I was stabbed right in the gut.

I fell to my knees, and pressed my hands against the wound. My hands, once delicate and soft, were slick with blood. The room went black as Marine closed the door shut.

"Kris!" Macy shouted. From his voice he appeared to be unharmed.

"Over here!" I choaked out, shaking. I tried to stand, but I slipped and fell into my own blood.

I grabbed the walkie talkie from my belt, and screamed at the top of my lungs.

"MARINE WILDS ESCAPED! I REPEAT, MARINE WILDS ESCAPED!"

I dropped the walkie talkie, beginning to feel dizzy. The room became very bright, lights dancing like stars before my eyes.

"KRIS!" Macy's voice sounded distant and muffled. Almost as if he were submerged in water. "Kris, stay with me! Help is coming!"

My own movements become slow as I reach for Macy's hand. I turn to meet Macy's eyes. I smile with agony.

Then the world went black.


	3. Prologue 3-Fate Comes to Those Who Wait

**My Demons-The Fourth Quarter Quell**

**Prologue 3: Fate Comes to Those Who Wait**

* * *

**WARNING: SUICIDAL THEMES**

**Klyde Soule, 25, District 2 Victor**

I hate this stupid life.

All my friends? Dead. My family? Dead. My pets? Dead. My business? Dead.

Okay that last one wasn't as bad but still. Everything I live for is dead.

I still remember her face. The face I left so long ago. The face that cried as no one volunteered.

It was an odd thing, of course. The Academy had been shut down the week before the Reaping because of a mold infestation, so they didn't have enough time to hold the testing for volunteers. Still, it wasn't illegal to volunteer. Some aristocratic, arrogant teenager would surely do it.

I was not so lucky.

These memories play like a slideshow in my head. Staring outside wasn't helping at all. The Victors and their families were out having fun on the warm day.

I closed my eyes, but flashbacks only hit me harder. The five tributes I had to pick off, just to stay alive. To get back to her.

They rolled like a projector in my mind. The short and stout girl from 8, the twins from 3, the malnourished, abused kid from 12, the boy from 11 who actually picked a good fight.

Then there was that girl from 7.

She reminded me so much of her.

My girlfriend, Britta Willis. The girl from 7 was Sabrina Carpenter, but they were one in the same to me. Same pale, flushed skin with matted brown hair. Britta's eyes were gray, but Sabrina's were straight black. They had the same personality too-sweet and caring. Not letting _anyone_ get in the way of helping.

I swear they were the same person.

I was holding Sabrina-pinning her to the ground.

"Please..." She had muttered. I expected the usual 'let me live' speech every freaking tribute seemed to have rehearsed. But then she continued.

"Please..." She repeated. "Make it quick."

The one thing I had gotten wrong about the two being the same.

One had depression.

_Maybe I should just die._

The thought occured to me, and it didn't seem that bad. I would die eventually, wouldn't I?

I shook my head. I didn't care how good it sounded, it wasn't right.

I grabbed the remote and flicked the tv on. Might as well get distracted.

"...Has escaped."

My eyes flicked to the caption as I heard these words._ Serial Killer __Marine Wilds Escaped Prision Earlier Today_

I covered my mouth in shock. I knew about Marine. Everyone knew about Marine.

"...Last seen headed towards Victors Village..."

For once I was glad my luck was bad.

Wait...what am I thinking?! I ran to the door and locked it tight. Little did I know that someone had already sneaked in through the kitchen window.

I suddenly felt something cold be pressed against my neck, and I was pulled backwards.

"Any last words?"

Marine's voice was playful and pshycotic. I thought of her like Harley Quinn from the ancient 'comic books' kept in Capitol Museums.

Britt would want me to fight on. Britt would want to to _move _on. I would avenge Britt's execution. I would fight back.

I reached up to the hand holding the knife, attempting to push it away. I was a Victor, I could do this.

Instead of tackling her, though, my hand dropped. Before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"Do it."

**End of Chapter Questions!**

1\. What was your opinion on Klyde?

2\. How will the District React to one of their Victors being dead?

3\. Was Klyde's death a Murder or Suicide?

See you all in the next-and last-prologue!


End file.
